Bella Disenchanted
by Llewellyn McEllis
Summary: At seventeen, Bellatrix Black will do anything to make Rodolphus Lestrange love her, even if it that means hurting him. She finds an unlikely ally in Lucius Malfoy, an usual sense of comfort in Rabastan Lestrange, but only the Dark Lord can he give her th
1. Chapter 1

** A/N: This story was written and completed long before the dichotomy of the Black family was revealed, and long before HBP was written and released.  
**

**One: My Beautiful Boy**

_I've been watching you sleep, my pretty boy, gauging your vulnerability and listening to the sound of your slow, unsuspecting breath. At ease. . . how dare you be at ease in my bed when time and time again you've made it perfectly clear that I am no more than a game you like to play to keep up with Lucius Malfoy? You think I don't know your little secrets. You think me daft, but most insulting is that you think me easy, my dear, sweet Rodolphus. You treat me like some silly little girl unworthy of your full devotion. You think that you can come and go with me as you please, but why do you keep coming back if I am just a game? Oh, my sleek and beautiful lover, the toy has been you all along, and I have played you with such skill that you will never wash the remnants of me from underneath your skin. I've won, and you don't even know it. I own you; you are mine…_

Rodolphus Lestrange stirred from sleep and drew his foot along the warm skin of his lover's calf as he stretched out of slumber's embrace. She was watching him, her wild, blue eyes wide in the semi-dark, half-hues of morning. It unnerved him, waking up with her hovering over him that way, and with a quick, jerking revelation he darted upright.

"Jesus, Bella," he started. "What the hell are you doing?"

Bellatrix Black smiled; her razor-sharp, crooked grin sent chills through him. "I was watching you sleep, love," she cooed, leaning over and caressing the side of his cheek with her lingering mouth. Her breath stole across his skin like a puff of steam, chilling him from the inside out. "So vulnerable," she murmured, a dangerous, drawling laugh following her statement. "So beautiful."

"Stop," he pushed her away. "I can't believe I fell asleep!"

Chided, Bella withdrew herself from him and brought her long, slender legs up under her chin. She wrapped her arms around them, hugged them to her chest and tilted her head to rest a cheek atop her knees. "You must have been tired," she narrowed her eyes over him. "You really outdid yourself last night." There was a hard edge in her voice, her familiarity with him pretended to wane now that he had pushed her away in the callous hues of coming dawn.

Rodolphus turned his back to her and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. Pale as moonlight, his back was perfect, she thought, deliciously defined in all the right places and with trembling finger she reached over and traced a pattern on his skin. Chilled, he shook her touch away, "Come on," he sighed, "that's enough." Lifting a hand into his disheveled, black locks, he dropped his arm back onto the bed, and she kept on touching him that way.

"Awwe, poor ickle Rudykins," she purred.

It happened so quickly she almost hadn't seen it coming. Rodolphus spun around and grasped at her wrist in mid-stroke, wrapping his strong fingers around it and squeezing. "I said that's enough, Bella!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Grow up, already." His last words evoked a powerful reaction, a sneer to be reckoned with, but his cold, green eyes didn't waver, and his hand lingered there in the air where he had clutched her wrist. For a long time they regarded one another that way, neither of them ready to give, and when he felt he'd made his point with her, he broke away from her stare and began searching the floor beside the bed. He gathered his clothing piece by piece and stood up. Head turning curiously, he craned his neck, ducked down again, and asked, "Where is my other shoe?" He took out his wand, " _Accio shoe_." The black, leather shoe came right into his hand and turned around, laying the pile on the bed where he'd been sitting.

"He won't care if you come down to breakfast, you know." she said. "He knows you've been staying here."

"I don't really care if he cares or not," he muttered into his shoulder as he stretched into his undershirt. "Besides, I'm not hungry."

"No," she was still sitting that way, head resting on her knees, the layers of her rich, blue-black hair falling sharply across her cheek. "Of course not."

Bellatrix watched as he pulled into his trousers, tucked in the undershirt and then buttoned and zipped in a well-practiced gesture. The whole morning looked like a black and white photograph to her, the shades of grey falling across his chest, accentuating the moonlit tone of his bare, white skin. "Don't wait for me tonight," he didn't look up while he buttoned his shirt.

"I wasn't planning to," she said.

As though she hadn't even spoken, he went on in his self-important tone, "I've been asked to oversee Rabastan's first assassination, and in his infernal incompetence, it could take all night." She rose up on her knees in the bed and leaned in, taking over for him by buttoning the last three and then the collar. It annoyed him, but he let her proceed, looking everywhere but down at her until she finished.

"I won't be here tonight anyway," she told him._ Come on_ , she lifted her eyes to dare his, the dull surface of his steel-green gaze searching her face, _ask me where I'll be_ .

Rodolphus took a step back, her hands hesitating in the air where only moments before the collar of his shirt had been. "When do you leave to go back to Hogwarts?"

"Sunday morning."

"Perhaps I'll see you Saturday evening, then," he said.

"If I don't see you first," she winked, a clever gesture that unnerved him. "Be a good boy, Rudy, or at least think about me when you're being bad."

He didn't even kiss her goodbye before he disapparated from the house, but even worse was the fact that he hadn't even said the words. Just like that he was gone, and she was left alone in her black and white photograph morning. He liked to think he'd hurt her, left her feeling vulnerable and weak, but Bellatrix Black did not keep either of those words in her vocabulary. She was stone, chiseled away only by time and weather, but never circumstance. Rising from her bed, she slipped into her silk bathrobe and then slid into the hallway. Quietly she tiptoed through house until she arrived outside her sister's door. She didn't knock, but turned the handle and stole into the room.

The lighting of Narcissa's room was different, perhaps because it faced the west, but Bellatrix believed it was because Narcissa herself was different and the room reflected her mood. She walked to the bed quietly, pulled back the coverlet and slipped in beside her sister. She snuggled close, Narcissa barely stirring as she did, but just enough to whisper, "Did he say goodbye this time?"

Bella sighed, "No."

Rolling onto her side, Narcissa draped a lazy arm over her younger sister. Strands of honey hair fell into her face and hid the delicate structure of her features. Bellatrix closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath through her nose and held it inside. "He's a horrible person, Bella."

"I know."

"Don't let him come back," Narcissa said. "He's hurting you. I hate that he's hurting you."

"He can't hurt me," she said. "Nothing can hurt me."

Underneath her hear, Narcissa was smiling weakly, "My baby Bella, you forget who I am. I know you. He is hurting you."

"Only because I let him."

"That is why you shouldn't let him come back. You're encouraging him."

"I know." Bella buried her face deeper into the down softness of her sister's pillow. She closed the heavy lids of her tired eyes and said, "I can't stay away from him."

"You can," she replied. "You're strong."

"He makes me weak."

"Nothing makes you weak."

"He does."

"No, no, my love. You're only being silly," Narcissa reached up and stroked her sister's cheek, and then tucked the hair behind her ear, "Don't say you love him."

"I do," she said. "I hate it, but I do love him."

"Oh, Bella," Narcissa sighed. "He doesn't deserve you."

"I think that's why I love him."

"Shh. You're tired," Narcissa said. "You don't know what you're saying."

Bella knew that her sister was just trying to protect her. Narcissa was the only one who would, the only one who loved her. She didn't speak again, but drifted off to sleep there in the warmth and comfort of her older sister's protective embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: My Guardian Angel**

_I love you because you are everything I should have been. Beautiful, sweet, endearing, and yet there is a wicked streak in you that rivals my own, and that's to be admired. I should feel threatened by you, should worry that you will steal in and take my glory, but you would never do that, not to me. When we were little girls I used to lie in bed with you, just as we are doing now, and I would watch you sleep. Even then you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen, but I never envied you. You reminded me of those angels in that book Grandmother used to have in her study. Pure light, like filtered gold streaming down on me from above, and then I realized you must be one of them. My guardian angel, Narcissa. . ._"

Narcissa had tried to talk her out of going, at least not without her. They should meet the Dark Lord together, combine their forces and present a united front, but Bella simply said, "When your time is right, you shall meet the Dark Lord, 'Cissa, but my time is tonight."

Her older sister hadn't want to let her go, but when all was said and done, the dominance of Bella's willpower won out, and she promised Narcissa that nothing would happen that she couldn't handle. "I just don't feel right," Narcissa said, "sending you off to meet Lord Voldemort without me. I almost imagined it would be something we did together."

Bella shifted uncomfortably, "Don't say his name, 'Cissa. Show some respect for his power."

Narcissa smiled softly, "I forgot. I'm sorry."

She remembered thinking to herself that that reason was precisely why Narcissa wasn't ready to meet the Dark Lord. If Bella went into his service first, she could look out for her sister, show her the ropes and prepare her for what she might expect. Begrudgingly, when the car Lucius sent for Bella arrived, Narcissa let her go, and made her promise not to do anything foolish. "Now, 'Cissa," Bella began, stepping up into the car, "you now me. Have you ever known me to be foolish?"

Narcissa nodded, "All your life."

She pulled away from Black Mansion, watching her sister wave to her as though she were going away from her forever. Later in contemplation, Bella thought that in her own way, she had gone away forever, but only from herself. She glanced back one last time at her sister, dressed all in white, it unnerved her deeply just how angelic Narcissa appeared. Angelic, and yet so ominous.

"Not nervous, are you?" she looked over her shoulder at him, dressed all in black, save for the silver, serpent brooch that held his cloak together. It had emerald eyes, or where they rubies. Bella wasn't sure, because in different light, the outcome seemed to change, or maybe she was just seeing something that wasn't really there. Maybe she was a little nervous.

The thread of her crooked smile breached her lips, "Me?" she astounded. "Nervous? You must be mad, Malfoy."

Lucius was grinning, appreciative at best, but there was very little admiration for her in that smile. She could see it in his eyes. He was doing this for Narcissa, to get closer to her, make her happy, and because Bella loved her sister, she would forgive him the minor foible that was his love-lack for her. "I should have known that were there anyone bold enough to walk into their first meeting with the Dark Lord without fear, it would be you," he said. "It's one of your most redeeming qualities," he had noticed redeeming qualities in her? Her forgiveness was deepening. "You have an unfailing devotion to that which you believe in, and often walk willingly into the arms of what could very well be your own death. You are a true Slytherin, Bella."

"Indeed," she felt the pride of her house swell in her chest. "I am true to my house, through and through, but most of all, I'm true to myself."

"Of course," he opened the doors for her and stepped to the side to allow her through. "And as a fellow Slytherin, one would expect nothing less of you. Now, remember," he ducked in through the doorway casually, taking up step behind her, "do not call him by name. He is your lord, your master, etcetera, etcetera. Do not speak unless spoken to. Keep your head down and answer all of his questions honestly. He'll know if you're lying. He's a very powerful. . ."

"Legilimens, I know."

"Impressive," Lucius looked her over curiously, a distasteful sneer marring his handsome face. She couldn't tell if it was because she had interrupted him, or because she knew more about the Dark Lord than the average seventeen year old girl, perhaps even more than he did. "Very well," he said. "I can see you know exactly what you're doing."

"I do," she assured him with a curt nod.

"Then before we enter, I'd like to wish you luck." Extending a genuine hand to her, Bellatrix regarded it uncertainly. Was this just an extra coat of courtesy in hopes that she would put in not just one, but several good words with her sister? His fascination with Narcissa had begun only recently, Christmas Eve to be precise, but the power her sister exuded with acted quickly, like a poison in his blood, for he would do anything to be near her, to have her as his own. "For the first time in my life, I'm positive I've brought him someone that will not disappoint him."

She took his hand, and looked into his iced-gaze, "Thank you, Lucius. Your faith is flattering."

"As well as genuine," he assured her. "Now, shall we?"

Nodding, she stepped behind him and followed him into the Dark Lord's antechamber. Her stomach was in knots, not because she was afraid, but because she knew what incredible power the Dark Lord Voldemort possessed. She could only hope to have such power one day, and she sincerely believed that through Voldemort lie the path to her own, inevitable greatness. The antechamber was lit in eerie shades of gold and grey, the dull torch lamps lit at odd intervals so that the weak light they produced barely illuminated the circular room at all and cast shadows over every face therein. Bella's heart caught momentarily in her throat when she saw Rodolphus lingering outside a thick, oak door with intricate serpentine carvings, and instinct nearly drew her into the prominent certainty of Lucius Malfoy's shadow.

She'd been anticipating this moment since he'd left her that morning, nearly dying to see the look on his face when he realized she'd come to the Dark Lord's service with Lucius. Though they called each other friend, their rivalry was thick with bitter enmity, most brutally encouraged by Rodolphus competitive nature. Lucius had everything, Rodolphus wanted it, and since he couldn't have it, he acted as though he could, and did everything in his power to trip his friend up. Once Rodolphus realized she was there, his fury would be monumental, intensified tenfold by the fact that she was with Lucius.

Only, it wasn't Rodolphus who turned around to face her; it was Rabastan. The brothers were very similar in appearance, but unlike his older brother, Rabastan was lacking the merciless glint that came with murder to one's eyes. His face was only slightly longer, and still innocent, which made him all the more appealing to her. "Good evening, Rabastan," she glided forward, unveiling herself from Lucius' shadow, not caring if Rodolphus saw her now. "How has your holiday been?"

"Dreadfully boring," he took her hand, drew it devotedly to his lips and laid a gentle kiss just above the sharp mounds of her knuckles. "I don't think I've ever been this anxious to get back to school. How about yours?" As he stood back to full height, she caught sight of Rodolphus over his shoulder, just stepping out of the chamber, and reveled in the bitterness of his revelation.

"I've had better holidays," she said. "Though I must admit, Lucius here has been kind enough to have me to lunch, and now here we are. . . well, you know why we're here," she winked.

"Indeed," Rabastan returned the smile. At school, aside from Narcissa, Rabastan was one of the few people who knew her well enough to talk to her. He didn't fear her like so many others, and she preferred it that way. One honest friend was better than a dozen backstabbers digging through your bones to find a weakness. "Is this your first audience with the Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"I've no doubt you'll be welcomed back, embraced with open arms. Why you're far more wicked than I. So much so, that I'm actually almost jealous of you," he laughed.

"You've no reason to be jealous," she assured him. "Your wickedness is a delight. Why I have no shame admitting I learned a thing or two from you." Rodolphus had stopped in mid-step, his glaring gaze firmly resting on her, searing into her, and even though she ignored him, her senses took it in, and relayed his malcontent back on her. She was pleased with his reaction, which carried over to Lucius, who barely paid the other man a moment's notice before slipping in beside her and urging her to come with him. "We'll catch up soon, Rabastan," she promised before stepping away.

They passed by Rodolphus, her righteous triumph bubbling joyfully inside her. He was never going to forgive her for this, never. With nothing more than a look, he assured her that she had crossed the line, invaded his personal space one too many times, but when she brushed near him, a cold smile stole across her face. "Rudy," she greeted casually. She winked, and then disappearing behind Lucius into the Dark Lord's inner chamber.

The jaunt was short, but it felt long to her, only because she had been anticipating that moment ever since the first time she had heard her Uncle Lomard singing the praises of Lord Voldemort's lofty ideals. Ridding the world of muggle-borns and half-bloods, cleaning out the dirty-blood from the wizarding world, she'd listened carefully, learned everything she could from Uncle Lomard, and after he'd gone home she'd written it all down in her diary, but that wasn't enough. She went to the library, started asking questions, but she was careful who she spoke to, for the mention of Lord Voldemort was gaining momentum, and there were those who did not agree with the Dark Lord's plans.

Lucius knelt before his master, and Bellatrix followed suit, recognizing the irony of the scene before her. Lucius Malfoy bowed to no man, which to her could only mean one thing. The Dark Lord was more than a mere, mortal man. He had surpassed the realm of wizard and was pushing the boundaries of Godhood. Dark magic hovered in the air of his chamber, clung to her robes and tickled like static against her face.

"You may rise, Lucius," the cold calculation of his voice, the perfect articulation of every word sent shivers of excitement through her. Looking out through the tops of her eyelids, Bellatrix watched Lucius stand, his hands folded together just at the waist, the sleeves of his black robes falling into place just above his slender, white fingers. "What have you?"

"I have brought to you a mighty gift, my lord." His proud voice seemed humbled, but only slightly, a fascinating contrast to the man she knew to present himself at all times with both confidence and righteousness. "A servant whom I believe shall surpass all others with her devotion. I present to you Bellatrix Black."

His attention was on her fully, as though there were not another person in the room with them, and the pressure of his prodding at the edges of her mind was almost maddening. Even as he spoke to Lucius, she could hear him sifting through her mind, toying with her thoughts and memories to discover where her loyalties lie, and what weaknesses he might find to use against her. "A mighty gift, indeed, Lucius," he intoned. "You will be rewarded for your devotion. Return to me tomorrow evening and we shall discuss the terms of your reward."

Lucius lowered his head in a humble bow, the shoulder-length, hoary blonde locks of his straight-cropped hair falling into his face like slices of moonlight, "Thank you, My Lord."

"You may take your leave," the Dark Lord said.

Bellatrix listened to the rustling softness of Lucius' robes as he departed from the room. When his shadowed passed her by, he brushed slightly against her, and though she couldn't be sure, it was a reassuring gesture reminding her to be strong. When the door to the chamber opened and closed, it was a sound both relieving and confining. The moment she had been waiting for had finally come. . . she was alone with Lord Voldemort.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three: My Lord and Master**

_The delicious stroke of you inside my mind is like a drug I can't get enough of. Long before I felt it, I craved it, knowing full well that it was all that I desired and more. I can feel you sifting through my thoughts like scraps of used up parchment. You toss aside the things that are of no use to you and seek evidence of my ambition. My loyalty, devotion, subordination are all yours, my dark master, and have been so since the first moment I was old enough to speak your name in the privacy of my thoughts. I yearn for the power that service to you will bestow upon me, but more than anything, I desire to serve you . . . _

The intoxication of the Dark Lord's intrusion on her mind had been both blissful and painful, leaving behind a horrific imprint she could feel burning her from the inside out. He hadn't even touched her, and still she suffered from the brand of his possession of her. Voldemort circled around her, sometimes slowly, and sometimes it seemed he moved so quickly that she could barely see him at all. He moved in such a way that she felt dizzy watching the black hem of his robes spin before her, the embroidered silver runes of power catching in the torch light, revealing glints of red thread that had most assuredly been dyed in the blood of innocence.

"What have you to offer me, Bellatrix Black?" Just hearing him speak aloud was divine, as he had a smooth voice that twisted around her thoughts in serpentine ecstasy.  
"You may speak," he said.

"I offer you everything I have, my lord," she did not lift her head, even though the swirling of his robes was starting to make her feel nauseous. He was enjoying her discomfort, she realized, taking great pleasure in her suffering, even if it was only minute's worth. "I would give you my very soul if you asked it of me."

Bella couldn't see him, but he was pleased. She sensed it in the change in the air, which had become less dense suddenly, a little more tolerable, and the spinning of his robes had stopped. He stood beside her, the soft leather of his shoes reflecting no more than a dim orange glow from the burning light above them. His shadow was like a blanket upon her, covering every inch of her, but unlike a blanket, which provided warmth and comfort, the shadow of the Dark Lord chilled her in such a way that assured her she would never feel warm again. Voldemort drew in a strange breath, and picked up his feet again, this time pacing the stone floor slowly.

"Tell me," he began, "is it true that you killed your mother, Bellatrix?"

She swallowed uneasily, a surge of guilt gripping her tightly. "Yes, my lord," she said. "It is true."

"Why?"

She didn't know how to answer that question. No one had ever asked her why she'd done it before, only how. The how of it was simple. Morgana Black had died no more than five hours after giving birth to her youngest daughter, Bellatrix. The healers all said she had suffered a massive brain hemorrhage and died peacefully in her sleep while cradling the infant child in her arms, but there were those who gossiped that Cesaro Black had killed his wife for bringing another daughter into the world when he so desperately needed a son to carry on the Black family name. By the time it was reported that Morgana Black was dead no evidence of magic could be traced, and so her death by natural causes had been recorded in the healer's tomes.

"Because she gave me life," Bella replied. She knew that wherever his line of questioning was leading, it was meant to make her uncomfortable, to expose the rawest edge of her nerve so that he might humble her with his mercy. "I killed her because she gave me life."

Voldemort's laughter was cold, appreciative, and this relaxed her, but only a small fraction. "For the gift of your life, you gave her death in return." He paused contemplatively and Bella listened to the sound of his footsteps shuffling over stone. "I too killed my mother," he said, stopping again, his feet firmly planted side by side in front of her. "You seem surprised, Bellatrix. In all your research you learned so little about my past, couldn't trace my origin, but I was indeed born, as all men are." His tone had become familiar, as though he were reminiscing with an old friend, but she wasn't going to let her guard down. Relaxation in his company was a plea for your own death. "I killed my mother for consorting with a muggle, and when I was old enough to avenge his defilement of her, I killed my father too."

Bella said nothing, but could feel the power of suggestion in her heart. Her father was no muggle, but all her life she'd blamed herself for her mother's death because she didn't want to believe that her own father would kill his wife. Narcissa claimed to barely remember their mother at all, but Andromeda had. Five years older than Narcissa, Andromeda had taken on the mother's role, but now she was lost them too, married to a muggle, mother to a mudblood whelp. His voice retracted the weakness of her wandering mind, reeled her back to him and held her suspended on the verge of his thought until she thought she'd go mad with anticipation for his next word.

"He never loved her," Voldemort said. Bella wasn't sure if he was talking about his own father, or her father. "He used her, and threw her away once he found out what she was." There was an eerie hint of sadness in his tone, which was quickly replaced with that righteous bitterness, "You and I are not so different at all, Bellatrix." He leaned in close, his breath arriving in a warm puff just beside her ear, "We killed our mothers, the both of us." His shadow enveloped her as the familiar twinge of guilt gripped her heart. "But I made my father pay for his crimes against her, and therein lies the difference between us."

"If you ask me to kill my father, My Lord. . ."

"You will kill him, I know." He hadn't let her finish, "Yes, Bella," a slender hand reached down, the fingers opening to cup her chin. Voldemort lifted her face so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "I am very well aware of the lengths you would go to to please me." i His face, dear gods, his face/i She steadied her gaze, stilled her heart. By Zeus, the skin of his face had taken on curious wrinkles very much like the smooth scales of a snake. His eyes glinted red in the fire of the torch behind her, but underneath that false hue they were black as pitch and so cold. "I've been inside your mind. I know your heart, and even as you find me hideous, you would give yourself to me if I were to ask."

Bella hadn't noticed that she had drawn her lower lip between her teeth until she released it, her mouth remaining slightly open as she drew in a breath, marveling at the sight of him. Dark magic had corrupted his form, she realized, so that even as he was still a man, the serpent within had begun to take over his outward appearance. "All of me belongs to you, My Lord, mind, body and soul. I am your servant," she repeated steadfastly.

The curious slit of his mouth seemed to twitch into the appearance of a wan, but appreciative smile, "Lucius has brought me a most noble gift indeed. No other has come so willing to serve my cause without first thinking of his own desire." The Dark Lord spanned his open hand across her face. He admired her with those cold eyes, licking his parched lips before he continued, "And yet you, Bella, come to me thinking only of service, and so I will give you everything you desire."

"My only desire is to serve you," she said. "I ask for nothing in return."

"Yes," he hissed. "Yes, and so you shall serve me." His hand fell slowly to his side before Bella realized she was standing. Had she been standing moments earlier? She couldn't remember. His power was intoxicating; her mind swam. "Return to me two nights hence and I will give you your first task."

"Yes, My Lord," she lowered her head.

"Will you wear my mark, Bellatrix Black?"

She held out her arm to him, remembering the place she'd seen the Dark Lord's brand burned in Rodolphus skin. "I will wear your mark with pride, My Lord."

His touch against her skin was like the searing metal of a red-hot poker. She ground her teeth, clenched her jaw so tightly that her neck ached with its force, but more painful than anything was swallowing her own screams, for a loyal servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort received his touch undaunted by the scars it left in the flesh. She had not even flinched, but even Bellatrix was not strong enough to escape the falling of a single tear down her pale, white cheek


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: My Mother's Ghost**

_Sometimes when I wake up in the twisted greys just before dawn, the shade of a woman stands at the foot of my bed just beyond the wisps of sheer. Her hair is black, like mine, and her eyes are the most mesmerizing shade of blue I have ever seen. She beckons for me to take her hand and float away with her forever, but I can't look away from the blue of her eyes. They are like my own eyes, looking back at me; surreal blue, like the sky, and I fly away inside them high above this mundane world into the vast beyond. I sit up in my bed, trying to reach her fingers, and the sheer presses against her like the fog of another world. "Avenge me," she says. . . and I wake up screaming._

Bellatrix hated sleeping alone. Even when she was a small girl she hated it, and could often be found creeping through the ancient hallways of Black Mansion and stealing into her sister's bedroom in the dead of night. Narcissa, who expected her, always kept a small, lavender night lamp burning on her beside table. She said it was to help her find her way, but sometimes Bella wondered if Narcissa didn't keep it to burn away the dark and keep the ghost of their mother away.

Peeling back the layers of comfortable quilts that covered her sister's sleeping form, she slipped into the bed and curled close to Narcissa's warmth. She hated that she felt so vulnerable, so easily scared of loneliness and the dark. She would never admit it to anyone else but her sister.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Narcissa whispered as she stirred, making room in the bed. They were the only two left in the house, aside from their father, whose room was so far away from them that not even a herd of Bramblehorned Bjorklebeasts would capture his attention, and still she whispered in her comfortable voice.

"Mummy's ghost was at the foot of my bed again," she said.

At first Narcissa said nothing, simply expanded her chest with the strong intake of breath that soon left her like a small defeat. "You were only dreaming, my lovely love."

Without hesitation, Bella revealed the cause of her dream. "The Dark Lord asked me why I killed her," she said.

"Bella," Narcissa sighed her sister's name. "You didn't kill Mother."

"Not on purpose, no."

"Not at all," she scolded, that whisper still gripping her sweet tone. "Father killed Mother, and you know it. We all know it."

This time Bellatrix sighed, "Yes, we do," she said. "Mummy wants me to avenge her."

Narcissa didn't speak for a long time, as though she were churning that thought over and over in her mind. When it seemed to Bella that she had finally pushed her sister too far, that Narcissa was pondering ways to have her committed to Azkaban, or the Spell Damage Unit at St. Mungo's, Narcissa asked, "Ask Mummy if I can help you."

"No, 'Cissa," she protested. "I don't want you to."

"She was my mother too."

"And when I avenge her, it will be for you. It will be for all of us."

They lie facing one another in the lavender tones just before morning, Bella with her eyes closed and Narcissa watching with silent devotion until her little sister fell asleep. Only then did she close her own eyes, and reach back inside herself for the comfort of sleep.

Rodolphus was in the parlor when Bellatrix descended the stairs later that morning. His arrogance was only rivaled by that of her own father, who made no bones about brandishing a very expensive cane he had just purchased to encase his wand. "You have excellent taste, sir," Rodolphus complimented. "I fully understand now where your lovely daughter acquired her taste for the finest."

He had taken note of her coming down the stairs, the mask of his kindness nothing more than a façade in her father's presence. He'd come to berate her, no doubt, for making an appearance before the Dark Lord the night before, but wouldn't dare make a scene in front of her father. "Rodolphus," her limp, but elegant hand extended to him before she'd even taken the final step and he accepted, drawing her from the final step and kissing her hand. "I thought I heard your darling voice. What brings you?"

"You bring me," he smiled, Prince Charming in disguise, or was it the other way around. He was Rodolphus, disguised as Prince Charming? Either way, he was pretending to be something he was not. "I missed you and thought we might take lunch together."

"Splendid," Cesaro Black clapped his hands together. "I was just about to call for lunch, the three of you can join me."

"Of course, Father," Bella widened her eyes, their feral glare catching Rodolphus a bit off guard. "Shall I call for Narcissa?"

"No need, Bellatrix," he didn't turn back to look at her, but had started walking toward the dining room. "She's already waiting at the table."

"We'll join you momentarily then, Father," she called, just before he passed through the doorway. The distant memory of her early morning dreams sparked to life in her. She would avenge her mother's death, she smiled inwardly. When the time was right, she would do what she had promised her sister in the early morning hours, but first, she drew close to Rodolphus, her hand sneaking up his bicep and resting just at his shoulder before she leaned in and brushed moist lips to his cheek.

"My dear, Rudy," she uttered sweetly, "what really brings you?"

He turned his face just enough to look into her eyes, but held the kiss she craved at bay, "You know bloody well what brings me, you facetious little bitch!"

His snarling anger evoked her soft laughter, but on the inside, no matter how much she braced herself for his cruelties, it always stung her just enough to leave an ugly scar under the skin. "Now, now, love," she purred, leaning closer to his ear. "Since when have you cornered the market on the Dark Lord's company?"

Rodolphus moved quick, like a cat, grabbing for her forearm to twist her away from him. It just so happened that he grabbed in the tender place the Dark Lord had left his mark, and regrettably, she winced in agony. A sneering smile formed on his thin lips, "Since I took you to my bed, Bella. I don't want you everywhere I go. It's bad enough spending time with you there."

"You didn't seem to think it was so bad night before last when I was. . ."

With the same movement he had used to tear her away, he brought her back to him, his lips so close to her that she felt a bit of spittle fly when he said, "I'm telling you I don't want you around me all the time. If we're going to play this game. . . this whatever it is we're doing, you keep your distance and stay out of my other affairs."

His thumb continually pressed into that painful mark, and she was wincing on the inside, while doing her best to hold in her agony in front of him. "Well, you can be the one to tell the Dark Lord I won't be accepting his invitation tomorrow night, then, Rodolphus. I wouldn't want to anger him after coming so highly recommended into his service."

"Bugger all," he let go of her arm with as much violence as he'd grabbed onto it, and she instinctively moved to rub at the tender skin. "Bloody Malfoy! I should have been the one that brought you in, not him."

She licked her lips in anticipation of her next move against him, "Now how were you going to do that when you were holding me as far away from all your other affairs as you could?"

"Mind your cheek," he warned.

She rolled her eyes, "Besides, Lucius was simply looking after his own best interest. He knew that the quickest way to Narcissa's heart was through mine. Now that _he_ has at least managed to provide me with something I desire, I'll do my best to make sure he gets what he desires. It's a simple game of give and take, one I'm positive you're not all that familiar with yourself."

There was a bit of a haze over his dull-green eyes when he looked into here at that moment, "Perhaps it's time for me to look out for my best interests," he said. "The only way I can think to do that is by cutting away the dead weight."

Bella tilted her head curiously. What exactly did he mean? "Are you threatening me, Rodolphus?"

For a moment those eyes livened with the thrill of her supposition, "I'm simply making a statement in regards to my own best interests."

"Rodolphus," Cesaro Black came back into the parlor, "before lunch, I wanted to show you something in my study. Do you have a minute."

"Of course, sir," the fleeting smile returned with ease, replacing the cruel mask of his bitterness toward her. Why did he hate her so? Had she ever done anything cruel to him? Had she ever been anything but compliant? By all rights, she should have turned him out on his ear and moved on with her life, but something inside of her was continually and strangely attracted to his rejection. As long as he was playing hard to get, Bella was going to continue playing hard to want. "Well finish this later, Bella," he grinned sweetly, leaning down and brushing a tender kiss against her cheek.

"I'll be waiting."

Bellatrix watched him follow behind his father, and as he passed through the doorway, she gave a little start because he walked through the shade of her dead mother, reaching out to her. How strange that she should appear right there in broad daylight. Unnerved, she couldn't remember a single time when she had seen the apparition of her mother other than at the end of her bed, silently pleading for her youngest daughter to take vengeance against the one who had brought her down. Did it mean something? Was her mother saying something far deeper than her normal cries for retribution?

Neither Rodolphus, nor her father had seen the apparition even though they had walked right through it. Bellatrix took a tentative step toward her, reading her lips, only this time, when her mother mouthed the words, "Avenge me," they came out loud and clear and were followed closely by, "save yourself."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five: My Will Be Done**

_ When we were little girls, he left us in the care of house elves and our older sister, Andromeda, who was just a little girl herself. Sometimes he brought home loose women and entertained them in the same bed he'd once shared with our mother. I hated him for that. I hated that he would defile her memory._

I remember one night in particular when I was nine, I fled from my room to escape the hungry ghost of my mother. Their voices came up the stairwell and as if I were a ghost myself, I slipped into the shadows and watched them arrive on the landing. Her fake laughter preceded her, but it was nowhere near as phony as the white-blonde shade of her hair, which she wore in the style of some famous American actress. I watched my father tip into her, their drunken conversation a series of mutters and moans against each other's mouths. His hand slid inside the opening at the back of her red sequined dress, which was so tight I thought she must be suffocating inside it.

"What about your children, Ces?" she asked. "I wouldn't want to disturb them."

"Don't worry about them. They're asleep," he had no idea. He never knew what we were doing from one minute to the next, and I wasn't sure why, but his guess infuriated me. It was the first time I understood why my mother's ghost haunted the edges of my bed, reaching out to ask me to avenge her murder. Fury swelled inside me until I was sure I would explode, and when I hit boiling point the Grecian urn that contained my mother's ashes shattered, spraying ash and dust like a cloud of smoke as bits of bone and porcelain clattered into the walls and bounced across the floor. Covered in white soot, the woman gave a startled scream and leapt into his arms. He scanned the hallway for the source of what was surely misused magical energy, but I stayed well hidden in the shadows, even after he had sent her into the bedroom and cleaned the mess with a quick gesture of his wand.

Her scream gave her away to me and pleaded my mother's case inside my heart because that woman. . . that abomination he had brought into our house wasn't a witch at all. She wasn't even a squib. She was common muggle trash, and my father had brought her into our world. No wonder Andromeda turned out like she did. Our own father couldn't even practice what he preached . . .

Bella swung her legs over the side of the bed and drew the cigarette to her lips, inhaling a dangerous breath of smoke into her lungs. She wasn't sure why she had started smoking, aside from the fact that it got under Rodolphus' skin. She looked like an idiot; at least that's what he said, but she thought it made her look more elegant and sophisticated, like some mysterious, dark lady who knew her place in the world. Across the room, in the full length mirror, she watched herself smoking and thought about how chic she looked.

"Ah, yes, hello," she turned her head to the side. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Bella Lestrange," she blew smoke casually over her shoulder. "Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange," a crooked grin formed at her lips. "Mrs. Rodolphus Lestrange," she added, the grin broadening as she gave herself a little wink.

A crackle of energy sounded in the room, and she gave a start, quickly dashing toward the trinket box she'd been using as an ashtray and trying to crush the cigarette out before her sister caught her. Narcissa would never forgive her for smoking, and so she'd been hiding it from her for months, knowing full well a lecture on health and icky odors would follow if Narcissa found out.

"Good Gods," Rodolphus coughed, waving his hand in front of his face in an exaggerated fashion. "That's so disgusting. I don't know how you can stand it. The whole room absolutely reeks of it. Ugh!"

"What are you doing here?" she smoothed her hands down the front of her nightgown to hide the fact that he had startled the life out of her. "I thought you had other plans tonight."

"I cancelled them," he shrugged. "I thought we might finish our little discussion from this morning."

She reached for her robe and slid into it, tying it at the waist, "Oh, I think you said everything you needed to say this morning, Rodolphus. Your intentions came over loud and clear."

"Bella," he took a step toward her, hand out. "I know I was rash this morning. I was angry. You have no idea what it's like being me."

She rolled her eyes, "I can imagine," she said. "It must be positively dreadful being you, Rudy."

"You know I hate it when you call me that," he sighed. "Look, I came to make amends. I know I was a bit harsh this morning, but now that Malfoy's one up on me things for me aren't going to get any easier any time soon. The good news is I had a long talk with your father this morning."

"And how is that good news?" She bounced back onto the bed and crossed her arms.

"He's offered me your hand," he said casually, as though they were discussing an exchange of mundane property. "Your hand and quite a settlement to start our lives with. It was more than I had hoped for."

"Wait a minute," she felt conflicted inside. Part of her was overjoyed that her father had offered her hand to Rodolphus Lestrange because she did love him and under ordinary circumstances he would probably never have considered her as a future, potential wife, but on the other hand how dare her father offer her out as though he owned her and she weren't free to make a decision on her own. "You're telling me that my father offered to marry me to you?"

"I didn't stutter, did I?" How smug he seemed. Had he been carrying this around with him all day? No mention had been made of it at lunch that afternoon, but now that she thought about it, the two men had traded off several self-satisfied glances during the meal, the way old business partners might after sharing a juicy tip on market shares.

Bella still had her arms crossed, as though she were hugging herself to ward off the chill of this strange betrayal she felt, "No," she replied. "No, you didn't." Had Rodolphus told her father that she'd met with the Dark Lord? Was that why he was so willing to marry her off to the first man that came along? Cesaro Black, though he claimed to support quite a fair number of the Dark Lord's policies and practices, had never been much of a follower. He didn't like to break with convention, and if worse came to worst, he would align his loyalties with those who fought against Lord Voldemort just to secure his position and his wealth. Blood Traitor, that was what her father was.

"I thought you'd be happy about it," he smirked. "The way you're always trailing about behind me, I thought you'd be overjoyed! You finally get what you want; me."

"Oh, I am happy," she murmured distantly. Her mind was on revenge, thinking of the many ways her father had disgraced her, disgraced their family name, and now he was usurping her choices out from under her as though he had a right to them. "You're all I've ever wanted, Rudy," she said. "Why, I wanted you before I even knew you."

"You could at least show a little enthusiasm about it."

She snapped back to the moment, narrowing her dark-blue eyes over the young man who stood before her demanding her devotion but refusing to commit in any way himself. "Shall I do handsprings and back-flips, Rodolphus? I said I was happy. What more do you want?"

He took a step toward her and held out his hand, "How about a bit of proper celebration?"

"Get down on your knees and make me believe you really want to be with me and I'll consider proper celebration," she tilted her head dangerously, those eyes scanning over his fine-chiseled features. "And where is my ring?"

"I haven't got any ring yet," this time he rolled his eyes. "I wasn't even going to tell you about it yet, your father asked me not to."

"Is that right?" this infuriated her even more, her father purposely going behind her back, trying to marry her off. "He asked you not to, say?"

"That's right," he took another step toward her, so that he was standing just at the edge of the bed and right between her legs. "He didn't want you to try to worm your way out of it, but I told him it wouldn't be a problem. You love me."

"Do I?"

His confidence sickened her, but she was so weak, "You do."

"Yes," she looked away from his eyes, which were more mesmerizing than she'd ever seen them. "Yes, I suppose I do."

The left corner of his mouth drew into a half-grin, the dimple in his cheek appearing, winning her. He was too handsome, too cunning. Just being in the same room with him was sometimes like torture, "And of course, I care very deeply for you too."

Disappointed, she looked down at his arms while he slowly lowered his hands to rest upon her shoulders. "You care?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

"Do you love me?"

"Bella," he groaned, dropping to his knees.

"What?" She lifted her face so that they were eye to eye, staring one another down in that infernal power struggle that neither of them would ever win. "I don't know why you can't say it."

"Why does it matter?" He leaned forward, brushed his lips against her cheek just beside the corner of her mouth. He left a soft trail of kisses all over her face until finally she gave in and returned the gesture almost begrudgingly. She hated letting him off the hook. She hated holding out for the day he said he loved her too, but she had no choice. In the end, she'd have her way. He would marry her; he would be hers. By Merlin's beard, she'd see her will done, but not until she dealt with her father, who had at long last played his final card against her. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Six: My Body Electric**

_I went into my first task for him believing I knew what it felt like to take a human life. After all, had I not killed my mother? No matter how many times Narcissa tried to convince me that our mother's death was not my fault, in the end it had all boiled down to me. I was a daughter, not the son my father had so duly demanded, and he had put her to death for failing him. A part of me has always believed that we choose this life before we're born to it, and in so choosing this existence, I must have known the fate that awaited the woman who brought me into this world. Why else would she come to me and ask that I avenge her death if even she, my poor, dead mother, did not believe I was at fault? However, nothing prepares you as you watch the last breath escape your first victim. I had lost track of myself during the torture and could have gone on for hours had Lucius not finally descended like the Angel of Mercy to end their suffering. I stood over the body of a young woman barely older than myself and felt myself smiling as death escaped her in that final sigh. I leaned down on my knees before her and drew her last breath into myself. What power, what incredible power. I don't know why, but I was reminded of that muggle woman my father sullied his bed and his name with that night when I was nine. Because of my father, the blood-traitor hypocrite, I became a Death Eater_.

She was alive with the power of that kill, her body surging with the power. Sweet Jove she'd never felt more alive in all her life, and when she turned back to look at Rabastan again, she could see the red and silver essence of his aura surging with the power of death. It was amazing, and beautiful and she couldn't wait to do it again. After Lucius sent up the Morsemorde, the dark signature of their Lord's work, he grinned malignantly back at his two apprentices, "Well done, both of you. I don't think I need to say it, but you two prove yourselves a most excellent team. The Dark Lord will be pleased."

Bella couldn't stop grinning. She felt exulted, her mind swimming with intensity and wonderment as she looked around the house that had been their horrific playground only moments before. She glanced over at Rabastan again, the otherworldly glow of his aura drawing on her emotionally, and she wondered if she was glowing too. She glanced over at Lucius. He pulsed more silver than red, but then he exuded with power at all times, and the one small kill he had allowed himself was probably barely enough to sustain his monstrous appetite. He'd been a Death Eater for more than four years, and such little raids as the one they were on were more than commonplace, in and out jobs for him.

"Do you do this every night?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, no, not every night. I do other work in his service as well, but usually I partake in two or three exterminations a week."

Lucius had a funny way of looking at her sometimes, she noticed. It was humor, she realized. He was humoring her, simply tolerating her presence now that he had gotten in good with her sister, and he had only gotten in good because of Bella in the end. Narcissa had laid down the law of their sister's bond with Lucius, making sure that he know they were as good as a packaged deal, sisters through and through. Bella had to admire him. He must have been a strong man to have accepted those terms, or else stupid in love. He was humoring her to the best of his ability, and she realized the entire act must have been killing him. Narcissa had that effect on people, she grinned, it was one of the things she loved about her best.

"Two or three a week?" she astounded. "That's not bad. I think I would like to do it every night myself."

His upper lip twitched again with that snide sense of appreciation, "Well, I'm sure once you have completed your training, his Darkness will be more than happy to oblige you. Although I wouldn't recommend this every night, Bella."

"Why not?"

"After awhile, the power you receive in the act can become something of an addiction, the misfortune being that the more you feed it, the more likely you are to go mad," he said that last word, mad, as though he had chosen it very carefully. Bella looked into his face, into the iced gaze he scanned her with and realized that he already thought she was crazy. His warning was something of a futile effort to save her from herself.

"In his name," she began, a wild acceptance of so twisted a fate revealed in her grin, "I'll take my chances."

That strange, glaring look continued on his face as he spun around to address Rabastan. Bella ignored him, reveling in the intensity of that feeling. It was like every cell in her body was singing from the inside out and it was a small wonder the world outside couldn't hear it. She wanted to spin around in circles with her arms out wide, listening to the electric hum of her own power gathering to her in full force. There was nothing else she'd ever felt in all the world that could rival the Dark power.

"Come along then," she tuned back in to the sound of Lucius' voice. "He'll be expecting our report."

The three of them disapparated from the scene, the lingering Dark Mark hovering over the house they had violated like a flag in the wind. When they apparated into the antechamber Lucius told them both to wait while he took audience with the Dark Lord, and after he had left them there alone, she glanced over at Rabastan still at the peak of his own powerful reception. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

The left-hand corner of his mouth tugged into a half-grin that reminded her so much of Rodolphus. They were brothers, after all, and looked very much alike, but again, even with the power of death still surging through him, Rabastan possessed an appearance of softness and innocence she was sure Rodolphus had never worn, even in childhood. "Tell you what?" he asked.

"Tell me about this? About how wonderful it is. I know what I want to spend the rest of my life doing after tonight."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: My Perfect World**

_ I had wanted to go to Durmstrang. It didn't matter if the school was only for boys, they taught the Dark Arts there, or at least that's what I had heard. After one year at Hogwarts, with no one but my sister to talk to, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The other kids were terrible. They called me names like Smellatrix and liked to pull the braids Narcissa took to so carefully twining through my locks. Merlin! How I hated them. I wanted them all dead, every last one of them. When second year came around, my father threatened to have me muted for a year because I wailed so hard about going back to that horrid place. I was twelve and twelve year old girls didn't behave that way. What did he know about twelve year old girls? I kept trying to tell him that he didn't understand, that Hogwarts was a terrible place run by wicked, horrid people, but he kept reminding me that my Great-Great-Grandfather Phineas Nigellus had once been the headmaster there, and that made the school ok._

All of the professors despised me because I knew far more than a girl my age should have known, and I suspect that most of them were out to get me, except for Professor Dumbledore. He was the only one who didn't seem to hate me, even though I always felt like he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling on the inside. He had a smile for me, or an encouraging statement of wisdom, and even when I ignored him he smiled anyway, like he knew something I didn't.

Two things changed for me second year. The first was that I became acquainted with a first year Slytherin boy even less fortunate, and more likely to be picked on than myself, and secondly Rabastan Lestrange transferred to Hogwarts from Durmstrang. Rodolphus had been a sixth-year Slytherin at Hogwarts, and since he hadn't ever picked on me I didn't even know who he was until I met Rabastan. Of course, I'd seen him following Lucius Malfoy about like a withered shadow, but I don't think I even knew his name until I became acquainted with Rabastan. Rabastan changed my life when he introduced me to perfection. . .

Bella leaned the side of her face against the cool glass of the window. The freezing condensation dripped down her cheek, and soothed away the headache that had been pulsing in her skull all morning. Beside her Narcissa was excitedly handing out thin details of her Saturday date with Lucius Malfoy to Maeve Basil and Charlotte Thistlewit. Both girls inserted the appropriate giggles, oohs and ahhs required to stroke Narcissa's frail ego, and Bella was glad, because starting the term with one of her sister's monumental fits would not have been in any way appealing.

The compartment door slid open, "Good afternoon ladies." She looked up at the sound of Rabastan's voice, fluttering her heavy lids for a moment before focusing her blurred vision on him. "Bella, there you are. I was looking all over for you."

"Do come in, Rabastan, the stale air from the hallway bothers my complexion," Narcissa cooed gently, tilting her head in that adorable fashion that made everyone love her. She gave a little cough to emphasize her point, and Bellatrix grinned to herself. That was why she loved Narcissa. She was so obvious, and yet no one seemed to care. "How was your holiday, my little darling? Come, sit with me and tell me all about it."

Ever since Rabastan and Bellatrix had become friends, Narcissa had taken him on as an honorary younger brother. She looked out for him, especially after she'd become a prefect in her Fifth Year. Rabastan blushed and sat down in between the sisters, ignoring the eyes Charlotte was making at him. "It was ok," he glanced out the corner of his eye at Bella. "Great really. A lot of new things going on in my life."

Bella couldn't tell if he was just talking about his newly pledged service to the Dark Lord, or if there were something else implied. She had thought about him after Lucius had seen her home, pondered that look she'd seen in his eyes that she longed so desperately to see in Rodolphus, and wondered how she could spark it in her true-love's eye. Somehow, she knew that Rabastan was the key, but how exactly, she wasn't sure yet.

"So I have heard," Narcissa leaned back in the seat and lowered an arm across his shoulders. She tugged him into a sweet hug and kissed his pink cheek. "Congratulations, dear boy. If anyone deserves such honors, it is most certainly you."

"What did you hear?" Charlotte leaned forward inquisitively, "Why are we congratulating Rabastan?" She fancied him. It was obvious by the doe eyes she made at him every time he was around.

Bellatrix hated her sister's friends. They were so empty, thriving on gossip and clinging to Narcissa's every word like vultures. "Haven't you heard, Dimwit?" Bella snuggled in close to Rabastan snaking her arm around his waist. "Rabastan and I are getting married. We're leaving school at the end of term and running off together to start a new life." She breathed in, the scent of his robes reminding her of Rodolphus, who hadn't even come to say goodbye to her before she left. "Isn't that right, lover?"

"You are not, you little liar," Charlotte rolled her eyes.

Narcissa cleared her throat, "Please don't call my sister a liar, Char. I'll be forced to give you detention, and you all know how nasty I can be when provoked." Chided, Charlotte sat back in her seat and muttered an apology under her breath.

"Really though, why _are_ we congratulating him?" Maeve wondered.

"Rabastan?" she looked over at him to make sure it was all right to divulge his secret. Among other Slytherins, such a revelation was safe, but she didn't want to violate his privacy. "May I?"

He shrugged, "If you wish."

Narcissa cleared her throat daintily, "Rabastan has been invited to join Lord Voldemort's inner circle."

Bella sat upright with a jolt, as though she'd been completely scandalized, "Narcissa!" Rabastan also shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Rolling her eyes, Narcissa waved her hand, "The Dark Lord," she droned almost sarcastically. "How picky he is about the use of his name."

"It isn't about being picky, 'Cissy. It's an issue of respect. His name is power, and for you to toss it around in casual conversation. . ." Bella shuddered, "Please, just don't say it anymore."

Maeve swallowed, "What about you, Bella? Have you joined in his service yet?"

"Maybe," she looked away. She didn't really think it was anyone's business who she served in her spare time and the fact that her sister and those dull friends she kept were discussing it over afternoon tea unnerved her. She stood up, retrieving her arm from behind Rabastan and shaking it a little beside her. "It's really stuffy in here. I'm going to see if I can find some Gryffindor's to hex."

"I'll come with you," Rabastan leapt up almost too quickly.

Narcissa made sad eyes at her sister, as though worried she was mad at her, that her misuse of the Dark Lord's sacred name had caused a rift between them, but Bella gave her sister a genuine smile, a promise that there wasn't a disagreement in the world that could tear them apart, and then she slipped into the hallway, bracing herself against the jerking movement of the train as Rabastan closed the door.

Without even looking back at him to acknowledge he was there, she started down the aisle, occasionally peering into compartments they passed by for someone to take the frustration of her lingering headache and her sister's disregard for power out on.

"Are you all right, Bella?" He fell into step beside her, leaning forward to try and look at her face.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Headache?"

She turned slowly to look at him, "How did you know?"

"I had one my first morning after," he shrugged. "Unfortunately Rodolphus had me up and about the next morning before dawn. I thought my skull was going to crack."

"How long before it went away?" she asked hopefully.

"Just around tea."

She groaned in agony, but her spirits lifted when a compartment at the end of the train car opened. Lily Evans stepped into the aisle, still grinning from whatever happy activity she had just left. She didn't notice Rabastan and Bella walking toward her, as she had called back over her shoulder with a little laugh for Alice to close the door already.

"Well, well, well. . ." the crooked grin appeared at the corner of Bella's mouth, "have a nice holiday did we, Mudblood? Nobody kill your parents while you were home?"  
Lily turned around with a startled gasp, the gold of her Prefect's badge glistening under the copper hair that had fallen over her shoulder with the movement.

Rabastan chuckled, "I think you scared her, Bella."

"I think you're right, Rabastan. Ickle scaredy Evans." She laughed. "So sweet."

"What do you two want?" Lily's face revealed nothing. No emotion, no fear, not even anger; even that small, startled gasp that escaped her had been an unusual response from the Fifth Year girl.

"Where should I start?" Bella drawled, stopping so that there were about four paces between them.

"Oh, I don't know," Rabastan replied. "Perhaps we could start with a round of exquisite torment. I, for one, would love to hear her scream."

A smirking laugh bubbled from inside Bella, "Yes, I think I would like to hear you scream too, Evans. Why don't you scream for me?" She reached into her robes for her wand slowly, pondering which hex she could use to evoke screams from the girl.

Lily remained calm, her nerve unflinching, "I've got an idea. Why don't the two of you throw yourselves out a window? Or better yet, you could throw each other. . . but that would leave one of you in the lurch and we don't want that, do we?" Her green eyes glimmered with the challenge and she reached into the folds of her own robe.

"Ooh," Rabastan laughed. "Nice comeback, Mudblood."

"What's going on out here?" The compartment door they were standing in front of whooshed open, and Head Boy, Frank Longbottom, stepped out into the aisle. "Ms. Black, you're not threatening Ms. Evans out here, are you?"

"So what if I am, Longarse?" She snarled over at the Head Boy, "What business is it of yours."

"My right to keep the peace among students on this train back to the castle makes it my business, Bellatrix. Now why don't you go on back to your sister's lap and have her brush your hair for you before I give you a detention Narcissa can't revoke."

Seething that he had brought Narcissa into his threat, Bella started at him through deadly blue eyes, but Rabastan grabbed her arm, holding her in place. This was what she hated about Hogwarts. People like Frank Longbottom, who thought that because they had special privileges they could push the other students around.

"No, it's all right, Frank," Lily spoke up. "We were just discussing our holiday."

Frank glanced over at Lily curiously. He didn't buy it at all, but even more surprised was Bellatrix. What was Evans trying to prove? Frank nodded, and slipped back into the compartment, but he had his eye on them now and it would be impossible to curse the little snit with him watching. Bitterly, Bella tugged her arm out of Rabastan's grasp and started toward Lily. She brushed shoulders with her, but didn't look back, as she made her way down the rest of the aisle and stepped over into the next car.

In a perfect world, mudbloods like Lily Evans wouldn't even exist, and the Frank Longbottoms of the world, the dirty blood-traitors who preferred to taint the wizarding world than to clean it of the filth that infiltrated deeper every day, would suffer for their insolence. The Dark Lord had promised her this perfect world when he had spoken with her after the extermination, but even he didn't feel that starting at Hogwarts just yet was a good idea. It would draw far too much attention to him, to them if his Death Eaters were working so close under Albus Dumbledore's watchful eye.

"Be patient, dear Bella, most loyal of my servants," he'd hissed, stroking his hand atop her head the way a loving father does his favorite daughter. "You will have your perfect world before our work is done." 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: My Scheming Mind**

_ There was only one good thing about Hogwarts. I could sleep there without waking up to find the hungry shade of my mother at the foot of my bed. Nevertheless, even there I didn't sleep well. All those years in Black Mansion had set my awkward sleep-patterns so that I needed very little of it to survive, and eventually I adopted the attitude that sleep was for the weak. Most nights, instead of sleeping, I wandered about the castle after hours, slinking from shadow to shadow in search of interesting tidbits, nooks and crannies. Suffice it to say, I bet you never knew about Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey, did you, or that sometimes Argus Filch dances with his ratty old cat, Mrs. Norris, on the third floor, which is one of the primary reasons it's been restricted to all students. Imagine the horror it would strike in students if they walked in on that!_

That night, however, the halls were quiet, unnervingly so, and the moon was full, so a silver luminescence glistened through the windows on the ground floor. He was there, standing at the window at the top of the first floor landing. He didn't hear me sneak up behind him and hold my breath there in his shadow. I reached out and touched his shoulder and he turned to look back at me. In that light he looked so much like his brother that I didn't even need to close my eyes to play pretend. . . 

Bella had been meeting Rabastan in the hallways every night since the last full moon. In her late-night wanderings of the castle, she had come to know every hidden room and passageway, and had been using it to her advantage with him ever since. She knew it was wrong, but in just the right light, she could pretend he was Rodolphus, and unlike Rodolphus, he was far more devoted to her happiness. Sometimes she wondered why she didn't just forget about Rodolphus and runaway with Rabastan, at least he actually liked her--loved her in fact, but on the inside, she knew exactly why. _She_ didn't really care about _him_ at all. He was just a beautiful distraction.

Why kept on meeting with him, she didn't know. She was leading him on, and it was wicked, but she didn't care. Not to mention Rodolphus hadn't returned a single one of her owls since she'd been back and she was going out of her mind with the desire to hear from him.

"Going somewhere, Miss Black?" that silken voice emerged from a dark corner in Slytherin Common room.

Bella stopped where she stood and glanced over her shoulder into the shadow huddled just beside the fireplace, "You know I don't sleep well, Snape."

"And tell me, do you sleep better when you're with Lestrange?" He didn't lean forward, but she could see the pale visage of his face outlined by the amber glow of the fading fire. "I've watched you both going and coming. It's a wonder you get any sleeping done at all with the hours you both keep, but even more a wonder that you manage your school work. You must be exhausted."

She felt a sneering grin draw at her mouth, "And when did my school work become your concern, Severus?"

"It isn't really your school work that concerns me and you know it."

Severus Snape was the only person at Hogwarts, other than Rabastan and her sister that Bella could tolerate. She didn't like him, not much really, but she had watched him grow from a scrawny, pale little boy who liked to sit in the shadows and watch the world unravel around him, into a gaunt, pale young man who had become one of the shadows himself. That wretched school they attended had been far crueler to Severus Snape than it had ever been to Bellatrix, and she supposed that was why she even bothered talking to him to him in the first place. When the world had been cruel to her, she'd wanted someone to reach out, and no one had, so she had given Severus the one thing she never had, understanding.   
"What then?" She posed with a hand on her hip, casually smirking into the shadow that contained him. "You want me to come and get into bed with _you_?"

An uncomfortable silence staled the air between them, and she could no longer see the fire light playing on his face. Had her question really been so shocking to him, especially after knowing where she went every night with Rabastan. Certainly he wasn't naïve, this one. No, there was something about Severus Snape that skirted the same edge of wicked Bella walked herself, and because of that, she rescinded her dislike for him and replaced it with respect.

"The last place I want to find you, Black, is in my bed. Especially after all the others you've been in since I've known you."

She laughed, "Oh, Severus, your wit never ceases to astound me." Her mind reminisced to a luncheon she'd had with Lucius, just before her first meeting with the Dark Lord, when she had asked him why he had chosen Narcissa and not her. He'd laughed at her as though she were some cute little girl in pigtails playing at being a woman. He had been humoring her even then, and Bellatrix decided right then and there that the only way to deal with Severus Snape was with the same strategy Lucius used on her: making him feel inferior. "I understand that my experience is far too much for someone of your age to even fathom. Perhaps if you were only a year or two older . . ."

"Were I a year or two older, I wouldn't even bother with this place or with you for that matter," he assured her. "However, circumstances being as they are, I am here and at the mercy of your lofty experience." She imagined him snarling at his own words. "While I quake in your magnificence, perhaps you would be so kind as to speak with me on a matter of vengeance."

"Vengeance?"

"Vengeance."

"Against whom?" she asked.

"Your cousin."

"Regulus?"

"No, the Gryffindor."

"Sirius?"

"Have you another embarrassing cousin in Gryffindor we should know about?"

"I no longer consider him family, you know that. He's a blood traitor on the verge," she explained.

"I would say he has committed treachery enough against his own family's ideals," Severus intoned. "You do know he has made friends with some rather unsavory creatures."

"Tell me something I don't already know, Snape. You're wasting my time. Rabastan is waiting"

"Lestrange can wait," he assured her slowly. "This won't."

"Then spill it already, if it's burning a hole in your tongue."

"He tried to kill me."

"Sirius tried to kill you?"

"Last full moon," he replied.

"And how did he manage to do that? He's not exactly the brightest berry on the bush," she crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing off the damp chill.

"He sent me into the den of a werewolf," his tone wavered a little bit, and Bella could smell the fear of his memory.

"A werewolf?"

"Yes, a werewolf. Must you repeat everything I say, Bellatrix? It's tremendously disconcerting."

"That's horrific," a nervous laugh escaped her. "A werewolf? Perhaps there's hope for my cousin yet."

"You sound amused."

"I'm sorry. I'm not amused," she admitted. "Not in the least. That's horrible. No wonder you want revenge."

"Yes," he whispered viciously. "That is where you come in."

"What would you ask of me?"

He wasted no time relaying his request, "I've heard the rumors circulate these last weeks that you and Rabastan could get me audience with the Dark Lord."

She felt her mouth twitch with delight. Early in his service and already she would be able to bring him a devoted servant, for Bellatrix truly believed if ever a wizard was born for the Dark Lord's work, Severus Snape was it. "I could make some arrangements for you," her tone was superior, impressive even to her. "Give me one week."

"Of course," she saw him nod within the shadows, only noticing the movement because for a moment, he was blacker than the shadow itself. "And in return, I will do whatever you ask of me."

"I'll bear that in mind," she was still grinning. "I can think of some interesting ways for you to repay me."

"Get me the audience first," he rose from the shadow and swept his robes around himself like a cloak before stalking toward the boy's dormitory. He stopped at the entrance and added, "If you do, Bellatrix, I'll do anything."

"Anything?" she asked.

"Anything," he repeated, before slipping into the dark chasm that led further into the dungeon and into the boy's dormitory.

She really didn't think getting him an audience with the Dark Lord would be so difficult. Of course, once he had the audience, he might not like it so much, but she'd hold up her end of the bargain and for that, he would hold up his. As for his end, Severus was brilliant with potions, where she was rubbish at them. She wasn't even taking potions now that she was studying NEWT levels. Of course, Narcissa was brilliant with potions too, she could always ask her sister, but something told her Snape was the key to the potion she was brewing in her mind.

It was wrong, and she knew it, but this new plot her mind was devising seemed a vengeful way to get Rodolphus to see things her way. A potion might be just the trick she needed to evoke the love confession she so desperately desired, especially if they were going to be married. She was so delighted with her own scheming that it carried her away until Rabastan came barreling through the common room doors.

"What are you doing, Bella? I've been waiting over an hour up there?" His voice was nothing like his brother's, she thought. Smooth and lazy, Rabastan's tone, even when angered lacked the conviction Rodolphus used with her and this alone was enough to make it difficult for her to take him seriously.

"There you are, lover," her chest deflated with a sigh when she realized she'd have to entertain this new plot more intimately later. "I was just coming to find you," she said.

"I waited forever," he whined. "I thought you forgot about me."

"Now, now, my beautiful little boy," she stepped forward and squeezed his cheeks together adorably before leaning up to kiss them. "How could I ever forget about you?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: My Emptiness**

_ When I hadn't heard from him, my mind conspired that maybe he was just a dream. Some kind of liquid moment I hadn't actually ever participated in. Every night I lie beside Rabastan thinking about his brother and wondering if it were true that one day he and I would be married. I got to thinking that there was a very real possibility that had my father never suggested the match, offered that property to him that came with me, Rodolphus would never have considered marrying me. What did I have to offer that the hundred other little tramps he took to his bed couldn't give him? Right then, I hated him, as I realized what a selfish bastard he was. Not like Rabastan, who curled close to me and whispered things no man should ever say to a woman unless he plans to make her his wife._

I can't deny there was a part of me that fell for him just a little while playing that game. In the moonlight, I could look up into his face, contorted by the afterthoughts of passion we shared, and see my future. The sad part was, that future had nothing to do with him. The first time he told me he loved me, I teased him. I rolled onto my side and propped up on my elbow, looking into his moonlit face and said, "You lie, Lestrange."

"Never," he shook his head. He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. "Not to you." That should have sold me on him. It should have inspired me to jump up and ask him to run away with me, but the inspiration always fell short in those after-moments, when I was just a stupid girl trying to fill a space inside myself that nothing in the world could ever occupy. . . 

Narcissa had no interest in glorifying the darkness whatsoever. Her sole reason for living over the six weeks following their return from Christmas holiday had become Lucius Malfoy. She seemed to eat, sleep, and breathe Malfoy, and though she was happy for her sister, Bella was starting to get a little annoyed with the whole Malfoy business. No matter how often Bella tried to persuade her sister to come with her to meet with the Dark Lord, Narcissa couldn't be bothered. What did she need the Dark Lord for? If she had her way, she would become Mrs. Lucius Malfoy before the year turned another circle, and she would have all the power and fortune a match with him could muster. The only thing she needed to secure her plot was a marriage proposal, and from the looks of things, that wasn't far off in the coming.

Bellatrix couldn't help feeling a little jealous every time the Malfoy's eagle owl swept into the Great Hall, swooping elegantly over Slytherin table and dropping some letter or trinket for her sister. Lucius was absolutely smitten with Narcissa in the way Bella had always wished Rodolphus would become with her, and for the first time in thier life she envied her sister. Up until that point, she had always considered them equals, but Lucius had chosen Narcissa over her without question, and now Bella was fawning after a man who could care less if she lived or died.

"Ooh, Bella, I haven't ever even told him how much I love these, and yet he knows. He always knows." Narcissa cooed and turned around to show her sister the open box of truffles that had come with a full scroll of parchment decorated in Lucius' steady, elegant hand. "I think I've got a definite keeper."

"I would say," she muttered, more to herself than her sister.

"Go on and take one. Take the whole box if you want them. You know what chocolate does to my complexion," Narcissa pushed the box across the table. This was her way of trying to cheer Bella up, a sort of offering to apologize for Rodolphus' behavior, even if it had nothing to do with Narcissa.

"No, thank you, 'Cissa," she lifted her head and offered a half-smile to her sister, but not before a raven lock of hair fell into her line of vision. She raised her hand to brush it away, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of Severus Snape walking into the Great Hall. He bypassed the Gryffindor table, but not without inspiring a few derogatory comments from her cousin, Sirius Black, and his snotty pack of friends. "You could do us a favor though," she returned her attention to her sister.

"Anything for you, you know that," Narcissa smiled sweetly.

"Give our pathetic little cousin detention," she looked across the Great Hall again, Narcissa following her gaze.

"What has he done now?"

"Nothing to me personally," she shrugged. "He's an insult to our house and our family name."

Narcissa twisted her mouth into a scowl, "Yes he is, isn't he?" she agreed. "However, I need a good reason to give him detention. That cow McGonagall threatened to revoke my power if I gave out another detention without cause. Apparently cutting me off in the hallway isn't grounds for detention."

"Hmm," Bella pondered, "he is being rather cruel to Snape."

"He's always cruel to Snape," Narcissa pointed out. "That's nothing new."

"True."

Rabastan entered several paces behind Severus, and Bella wanted to cut him off before he could get too comfortable at dinner. They were supposed to be meeting with the Dark Lord that night and would need to slip out undetected somehow. In her mind, the best time would be during the melee of dinner, and they could worry about slipping back in later. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us tonight, 'Cissa?" she asked. "Lucius will probably be there."

A lamenting frown decorated her sister's face, "Awe, really? I _would_ like to see him again." She tossed it about in her thoughts, trying to justify it. "I don't know, maybe. No, I really shouldn't. I have so many things to do. I have a huge transfigurations project due tomorrow, complete with animated examples. I really need to practice. McGonagall has it out for me, I just know it."

Bella rolled her eyes, "Yeah, right."

"No, really, she does."

"Anyway, don't say I didn't invite you," she stood up and stretched.

Narcissa shrugged, a promise that she wouldn't, and then she indulged in one of the truffles Lucius had sent her just as Bella walked away from the table. She grabbed Rabastan by the sleeve and led him back in the direction from which he'd come, much to his dismay.

"Whoa," he stopped her with a tug just outside the double doors. "Where are we going?"

"You know where we're going," she reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but don't I at least get to eat first? We had Quidditch practice just before dinner and I'm starving."

"Well, you can eat later," she shrugged. "I'm anxious to get out of here."

It was true, she was anxious to get out of the castle and dying to see Rodolphus, but more than anything, she was looking forward to meeting with her master again. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, and she needed to arrange a meeting for Snape so that she could set the wheels of her plan against Rodolphus' heart in motion.

"But I'm starving," Rabastan whinged, following her dutifully through the hallways.

The plan was that they would sneak out into the courtyard, and off the grounds by way of the Forbidden Forest. Lucius had sent them a map that would see them safely through, recommending that they travel with nothing but the clothes on their backs and, of course, their wands. Rabastan didn't stop complaining about the likelihood of his starving to death until they were outside and Bella spun around to cut him with an icy glare.

"What?"

"You know what! Stop whinging already and let's go! You ate at lunch today. Enough to get you through at least a week before you literally starve to death." She unraveled the map and looked up at the thickly mangled copse of trees before them. An eerie whimper came from just beyond the thicket and she rolled her eyes. No boring little midgecombers were going to keep her from this meeting. She'd stomp them all one by one if they tried to get in her way, "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Rabastan lowered his head in defeat, following her as she took a step into the forbidden forest.

With Lucius' map, the journey took them about an hour from one end of the peculiar forest to the other. Rabastan was too preoccupied with the amalgamation of sounds and scampering through the brush to talk much about his stomach, and Bella was glad. If she had to hear him mutter one more word about pudding or steak and kidney pie she was sure she'd use the worst unforgivable curse in her repertoire to silence him for good.

"Do you think he'll take Snape?" he asked.

"Of course he will," she shrugged. "Snape's brilliant."

"Really?" she detected a hint of jealousy in that one word, amazing how well she'd learned to read him. Again, she found herself wishing Rodolphus had come so easy for her. It was as though the two brothers were the complete antithesis of one another, and the only thing they shared was their love for darkness and torment.

"Of course, really. Would I say it if it weren't true?"

"I guess not."

She stopped and looked down at the map. They had just passed the last big landmark before they turned out on the road. They would be able to apparate from there, according to Lucius. Neither of them said another word for the remainder of the journey, but the time he had actually spent talking reinforced in Bella's mind why she had chosen Rodolphus over his younger brother. Where Rodolphus proved himself on an intellectual level that Bella herself could identify with, when it came down to it, Rabastan was rather dull. Most of his conversations had to do with her, and though that was flattering at times, she really didn't care to talk about herself all the time, especially when there was work to be done.

She sighed. No, Rabastan certainly didn't share his brother's flare for brilliance, and though he was devoted to her completely, would do anything to make her happy, that was the very thing that seemed to annoy her the most. She couldn't imagine spending more than a night with him, let alone the rest of her life. She was the first to stumble out onto the road after hacking her way through a thick bit of shrubbery and wood, and after kicking off a flesh-eating slug that had attached itself to the side her shoe, she brushed the brambles and thorns from her cloak and turned around to watch for Rabastan.

Like an oaf, he came bumbling through the brush, cursing and hacking at the last branch of thorn that had caught on her robes before she'd stepped out into the clearing beside the road. It had caught him on the cheek, leaving a dotted scratch just below his eye. Bella realized she could have warned him about it, but hadn't much felt like it after she'd spent the last ten minutes going over the prospect of an eternity with him. Poor, innocent little Rabastan, she thought.

Another breath escaped her as she realized she'd grown tired of him completely and would give anything for just one night with Rodolphus. One night where she didn't have to pretend she was with him, watching for the shadows to fall just right across Rabastan's face to make her believe she was with the one she truly loved. She would have given her ever-lasting soul for him to treat her with the kind of devotion that Rabastan treated her with.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, and stepped up beside her, brushing at his cheek with the back of his hand. "Just bloody lovely."

"Will you stop moaning," she started toward the road. "It's just a little scratch."

"Damn near took my eye out!"

"Shut up, Lestrange, or I will take your bloody eye out."

He didn't say another word after that. Bella touched her foot to the dirt of the road, she closed her eyes. With a powerful snap of energy, and a flash of bluish light, she disapparated, and moments later Rabastan followed. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: My Priorities**

_ He wanted to see me aside from everyone else, and even though Rodolphus hadn't said much more than hello to me after we had arrived for the meeting, I caught his spiteful glare from the corner of my eye, as he and the others filed out of the chamber. He was jealous of the Dark Lord's fascination with me, and a part of me conspired to imagine he was jealous that there was something other than malignant scheming going on between my lord and myself. It was never like that though. Alone with him, I sat in the half-shadows of flickering torchlight and listened with absolute devotion as he paced the floor before me preaching the brilliance of his own fool-proof plan like a sermon._

Why had he chosen me? Was it the simple matter of our mother's both having died in childbed? Did he see something of himself in my selfless ambition? I never wanted to ask him because I was afraid he'd think I was ungrateful for his attention, and so I watched with awe, as he unraveled himself before me. He spoke to me as though we were equals, even then, and in those days I had wished secretly that he, not Cesaro Black, had been my father. . .

Two hours had gone by since Voldemort had dismissed his other Death Eaters. Bella sat on the floor with her legs crossed casually. The chamber was cold, but the Dark Lord didn't seem to even notice as he paced thoughtfully in front of her. She drew her robes tighter around her, snuggling into them for warmth, and from time to time when he would pause reflectively to ponder an idea more deeply, she would watch the shadows play across his face. It was strange, but in the Dark Lord's presence Bella felt more secure and relaxed than anywhere else. There were no untoward thoughts giving chase in her mind about her mother's ghost, or the scheme her father and Rodolphus were plotting against her. She was focused, devoted, and when she realized this change in her thoughts, as comforting as it was, it frightened her.

Assuredly, he had sensed her thoughts, for the Dark Lord prodded into her reverie when he asked, "Have you thought of a reward you would like to receive for your service to me, Bellatrix?"

"A reward, My Lord?" She lifted her chin with casual curiosity.

"Already you have proposed to present me with more followers than any of your contemporaries, many of whom have been in my service for years. You deserve to be rewarded for your loyalty and devotion." He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his robes fanning momentarily with the movement, settling once again around his feet. "What would you have?"

At first she didn't reply. Her mind grappled with the necessities. Vengeance was her top priority. She thought of all the people who had humiliated her over her stay at Hogwarts, many of them now out in the world trying to make a life. Then there was Rodolphus. Rodolphus was a necessity, more than he was a priority, but with Snape's help now that she could guarantee him audience with the Dark Lord, winning Rodolphus the way she wanted would be easy. Most pressing, however, among her priorities was a struggle between avenging her mother and taking charge of her own life, before her father promised her hand to a drunken muggle he came across in a pub. Taking care of her father was a top priority.

"Ah," the Dark Lord was grinning. She hadn't even noticed he'd been sifting through her thoughts as they formed. "What if I gave you the power to have all of these things which you desire?"

"You would do that?"

"You only need ask it of me," he replied. "You want vengeance against those who made you feel small, and this will be easiest of them all for me to grant. You want to kill your traitor father, but worry that first you must make sure your future with Rodolphus Lestrange is set in stone so that there is no way for him to back out of it."

"Yes," she whispered.

"You are very clever to plot against his heart with a potion, but think, Bella," he took a step toward her, the crude torchlight illuminating the hideous beauty of his malformed face. "A potion would make him want you, yes. His love would be unyielding, but also unreal and uninspired."

Bella looked away sadly, knowing he was right.

"However, were you to become an entity to be reckoned with, say a powerful daughter of the darkness. . ." he was pacing again to inspire thought-flow by way of the steady repetition of his footfall upon the stone floor. "Imagine the possibilities for yourself. If you were to become my most powerful Death Eater, Bella, which is what I have always wanted for you even before Lucius brought you into my service, you could have anything in this world that you desired." Her mind groped at the possibilities, while he continued to walk before her. "Rodolphus would be attracted to you of his own free will. They would all be attracted to you because of your incredible power and station."

Bella's crooked smile twitched into existence as she envisioned what he spoke of. "I could toy with him," she couldn't be sure, but what appeared to be the flicker of a smile appeared on the Dark Lord's thin lips. "Make him do my bidding."

"Indeed," he encouraged her imagination to soar into the realm of possibility.

"He will never leave me wanting again," she realized.

"He'll tell you he loves you," the Dark Lord whispered. This was the one thing that most appealed to her, and he had known it would. She hadn't seen him move in behind her, but at some point he had arrived there to kneel on the floor, his hands perched upon her shoulder as he leaned in to murmur in her ear, "Think of it. Dream of it, Bella," he hissed. "It could all be yours. _He_ could be yours. Devoted only to you. . ."

Without hesitation she asked, "What must I do for you to make this happen, My Lord?"

"Not for me," he stayed in that position, close behind her, his cheek pressed into hers, "with me." She could feel him grinning a twisted smile. "Kill with me," he said. "Not for me, but with me, Bella. I will teach you everything I know, and you will know more power . . . more prestige than any of my other Death Eaters."

"When can I begin?"

"Three nights hence."

"Who?"

He laughed, a horribly appealing sound that sent shivers of delighted fear and excitement through her, "We'll start with your father," he promised.

"Yes," she carried the sound of that s longer than normal as all of her dreams began to build up before her. She would have everything she had ever wanted. Respect, power, prestige, Rodolphus. . . and her mother would at last be avenged. Just recognizing it as a possibility evoked a tingling in the center of her stomach. "Yes," she said again. "We'll start with my father."

It had already begun, she thought, as she stepped out of the Dark Lord's chamber to head back to Hogwarts. Rabastan had fallen asleep while huddled in a rather stiff looking chair by the dying fire, and Rodolphus stood watching the embers fade. He looked over at her when she emerged from the chamber, his green eyes sparking to life with interest.

"There you are," he started toward her. "You were in there for hours. What happened?"

She couldn't imagine how smug her own grin must have looked from the outside. It was as though the power of the Dark Lord's promise had already begun to take shape, "Happened?" she asked.

"Yes? What happened?" Somehow, his tone was softer, though not much. He still disrespected her, felt superior to her, and though she didn't consider herself any kind of legilimens, he was obviously at a loss for what the Dark Lord would possibly want with her and her alone.

"Nothing happened, Dear Rodolphus," she arrived in front of him, and with a stead foot, she kicked gently at Rabastan. "The Dark Lord and I had business to discuss."

"Business?" he wrinkled his brow. "What sort of business?"

"Now, Rodolphus," she kicked at Rabastan again, harder this time, "had the Dark Lord wanted you to concern yourself with our business, he would have invited you to join in the conversation, wouldn't he? Come on Rabastan. We have to get back."

He gave a quick jolt, "What? What's happened?"

"Nothing, it's time for us to go back."

"Wait a minute," Rodolphus grabbed at her arm and drew her back to look into his face. "Aren't you even going to talk to me? It's been weeks since last I saw you."

"Has it then?" she pulled a mask of nonchalance. "Weeks?" She widened her eyes a bit, continuing her casual smile. "Come on Rabastan, let's go."

"I'll come see you on Saturday," Rodolphus said. "Meet me at the Hog's Head."

"I'll see what I can do," she shrugged. Rabastan stood beside her, his tired shoulders sagging as he stretched his neck to the side and muttered a complaint about there not being a single comfortable chair in that entire place. For the first time, Bella was feeling dangerous. She didn't care about gauging the look on Rodolphus face when she walked out without even petitioning him for a kiss. She could feel his eyes burning into her back, and imagined the discontent with which he regarded her. For the first time in her life, she understood Narcissa's game. All those times when she should have been playing hard to get with Rodolphus, she'd been playing hard to want.

Not anymore.  



	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: My Ascent**

_I had been watching my sister play hard to get for years, but it'd never been a game I understood or cared to learn. I thought I was lucky to get any kind of attention, healthy or unhealthy, so I let Rodolphus take advantage of me. Of course, I regret nothing. Turning the tables on Rodolphus would prove to be worth the wait, and the Dark Lord's fascination with my individuality didn't hurt my case against his heart. While Rabastan and I wandered back through the Forbidden Forest that night, I kept thinking about that look, that longing I had seen in Rodolphus' eyes. He'd felt slighted by me. Slighted. . . by me. After all that time of me following him around like some lovesick pup, all I needed to do was step back and act as though I didn't care? It almost seemed too easy, but Saturday, while all the others had gone to Hogsmeade, Rabastan and I stayed back in Slytherin Common and conducted our first meeting. We would call ourselves the Knights of Walpurgis, and that small group of students would become the first to call me Daughter of Darkness, for I spoke to them like a direct representative of the Dark Lord, his most faithful disciple making his deals and bidding on his behalf._

Daughter of Darkness. . . I liked the way it sounded, but even more than how it sounded, I loved the way it felt. I knew power without having to lift a finger, a feeling that would guide me for the rest of my days and sustain me when all other hope was lost. . .

"What will we have to do?" Regulus Black, Bella's first cousin, sat on the arm of the sofa, his hands in his lap. Bella liked Regulus because he was young and malleable and knew exactly when to ask how high when she told him to jump. Three years younger than she was, Regulus had always looked up to both Bellatrix and Narcissa, and had followed the girls around Hogwarts like a lost shadow since he'd come to school. Unlike his brother Sirius, Regulus had been sorted into the right house and knew exactly where his loyalties lie.

"Preserve purity, of course," Bella answered, as though this should have been the obvious answer. "From time to time he will call upon you to do tasks in his name."

Bartemius Crouch lifted his head to study her, the tousled locks of his straw toned hair jostling to fall across his high brow. "What kind of tasks?" It was strange to her that Crouch was there, the only Non-Slytherin in the mix, but Rabastan swore that he was trustworthy, and more than just a little interested in their cause. Rabastan had invited the fifth year boy himself, and insisted that if the Sorting Hat had ever made a mistake, it had been with Barty Crouch Jr.

"Does it matter?" she challenged him, offering a menacing scowl to reinforce her authority.

"No," he didn't flinch, but Regulus did. "I was simply curious, is all."

"Well, when you meet with him, you can ask him yourself," she said. She hadn't even realized it, but she had taken up pacing before them, one fist palming the other behind her back as she walked. "I am simply his messenger," she added. "I come to you bearing opportunity. You can choose to take the next step, and come with me tonight to meet with him, or you can walk away today and forget you were ever here."

Ludo Bagman raised his hand and Rabastan reached over and slapped it out of the air, "This isn't Transfigurations you dunce!"

"Sorry," he shrugged his shoulders up around his crimson cheeks. Bellatrix had always intimidated Bagman, which was why she'd chosen him. He was someone she could naturally bully and push around. "I just. . . I wanted to know what happens if we walk away today and forget we were ever here."

She narrowed her treacherous gaze over him, "Are you thinking of walking away wittle scawedy baby?"

"Uh. . . no, I uh. . . well, I just wondered."

"Anyone who walks away from this today will find it difficult to forget they were ever here," she said. "I would advise you keep one eye over your shoulder at all times."

"Let me get this straight," Igor Karkaroff began. "You invite us here to ask us if we would be interested in joining the Dark Lord, and if we aren't interested, we have to watch our back to make sure you don't plunge a dagger into it?"

Bella grinned, "Precisely, Karkaroff. There was a reason you were all asked here. You have obviously demonstrated an interest in his divine work at some point in time. He has asked me to extend his hospitalities to you all, make you an offer you can't refuse."

"What kind of offer?" Crouch asked.

"You need only know that he is planning a major uprising," she said. "When he succeeds there will be positions that need to be filled, positions of power. It would be advisable for us to know where we stand with him now, so when his time of glory comes, our loyalty will place us favorably in his vision."

"His time of glory?" Severus had not taken his eyes of her since their meeting of the minds had begun. "You speak as though you've already seen this, as if it were carved in stone and not a mere probability."

"A mere probability?" she bitterly echoed his words. "Dear Severus, have you so little faith? It is a mighty vision he has seen. I have heard him speak it. Perhaps you need to hear it come directly from his lips, but I have not a grain of doubt that the Dark Lord will rise to power, especially with us in his ranks."

Evan Rosier spoke for the first time, initiating Bella's crooked grin. "When can we meet with him and hear him speak?"

"I can take you to him tonight," she said.

"Tell me, Black," Severus changed the tone again. "What is in it for you, bringing all of us to his service?"

She returned her gaze to him, the grin never wavering as she said, "Wouldn't you like to know?" No one else challenged her after that, and even Severus, who was both stubborn and hard-edged yielded to her supreme position in the Dark Lord's favor. "So, who will come?"

"Do we have a choice," Crouch asked.

She wasn't sure why, but Bella was starting to like him. His wit was only surpassed by the absolute unlikelihood of his interest in the Dark Work. "Of course, Crouch," she focused her attention on him fully. He was a scant young man who looked prone to nervousness. This much she guessed by the gnawed nails and cuticles decorating his delicate hands, but when she looked into his storm-grey eyes, there was definite power within them. "There's always a choice," she said. "Let's just hope you make the right one."

"Where do we meet?" Regulus leaned in enthusiastically.

"At the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Rabastan spoke for the first time since the meeting had started. Bella had actually been pleased that he'd kept quiet, for even though he was a clever executioner, his gift with words was sometimes lacking. She wanted them all to both fear and admire the Dark Lord, while coming into his folds with complete trust and devotion to his vision. "Be there at 11:00 sharp," he added.

"Yes," Bella drawled. "Anyone who does not show up tonight, remember this," she held them suspended with curiosity for nearly a full minute before she finished them of with, "we've got your names, and as the Dark Lord rewards generously those who serve him well, he will not hesitate to punish those who defy him. Are there any questions?"

They all had questions, but none dared to ask, and she was pleased. Her master would be pleased with them. They were a loyal group who she believed would serve him well, and thanks to them, she crawled even higher toward her newfound goal of secondary supremacy—secondary only to the Dark Lord.

Bella never made it to the Hog's Head Inn that afternoon. She left Rodolphus waiting. This only served to madden him in a way she'd never have guessed. That night at dinner an owl swept in over Slytherin table in the Great Hall, dropping a stunning bouquet mixed with lavender and black orchids.

Narcissa reached for them automatically, complaining that she didn't care for orchids as much as she did roses and the flowers she'd been named for, the Bianci Narcissi. As far as she was concerned, orchids were rather dark and dramatic as far as flowers went, and then she smiled thoughtfully, "Why, were there ever a flower that reminded me of you, Bella, it's an orchid. They have a dangerous sort of beauty. Admirable, but so not me."

"A bit odd of Lucius to send them," Bella thought aloud. "Doesn't he usually send you what you like?"

"Indeed he does," Narcissa replied, reaching for the card that had come attached. She peeled off the seal and took out the card, a blush coloring her pale cheeks. "Oh my goodness," she said. "I feel quite a fool."

"Why?" Bella reached for the card curiously. "What's wrong?"

Narcissa let her read the card:

**_ My Beautiful Bella,  
I waited for you all day and you never came.  
I'll die if we can't be alone together soon. I  
miss you.  
With Love,  
Rodolphus_**

Suddenly she understood her sister's blushing foolishness, and a warm feeling resonated in her own complexion. Could it really have been as easy as that? Ignore him and play aloof to win him? Was that how it was done? He had signed that little card With Love. . . surely, she thought, he had never done anything for her with love.

Bella was on cloud nine, and rising higher with every moment. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: My Rules **

_ There was only one who tried to walk away without meeting the Dark Lord. His name was Munsen Wilhelm, and my master asked me to take care of him in a way that would stand out to the others I had led to him, but leave keep our dealing inconspicuous to the outside world. The only way to do this was to take care of him outside of school, at Hogsmeade during a student weekend. I wanted him to forget about my threat so when I came up behind him he died with a look of surprise on his face. In order to achieve that, I had to treat him as though he had nothing to worry about._

I played the seductress, my favorite role, and led him on to believe that the Dark Lord granted second chances. I cooed to him in a sweet voice. I let him get comfortable with me, but I could see that underneath his quick replies and anxious nods, he was terrified of me and what I was going to do to him. It would take a month to reprogram his suspicion so that he finally let his guard down, and that was when I planned to strike. The Dark Lord said my plan was absolutely flawless. He said that he loved how all my thoughts came out already dark and twisted, with very little need for manipulation. He appreciated my deviousness, and that was what I always loved about him. He was the only one who ever got me . . . the only one who cared. . . 

"Tonight is the night," Bella leaned close to her sister at breakfast, pushing aside another bouquet of orchids from Rodolphus. Three days in a row he had sent flowers, and even though she'd wanted his attention, Bella felt that his approach was a little unoriginal.

"The night?" Narcissa repeated. She curiously tilted her head, and a perfect gold ring of hair fell off her shoulder and down her back.

"The night," Bella nodded. "Mummy's vengeance," she said.

"Oh," she nodded. "Oh, yes!" she said with a bit more enthusiasm. "The night! But Bella, how?"

"Don't worry," she shook her head. "I can't divulge details, but mark my words, it will be done."  
Narcissa smiled sweetly, "Think of me as it is done."

"Of course I will. I shall mention your name to him moments before."

"Thank you," her sister nodded. She changed the subject here, "Rodolphus seems to be singing a different tune all of the sudden, sister. Tell me, what have you done to him?"

"Nothing," Bella shrugged.

"Come now," Narcissa replied disbelieving. "Love potion? Did you have that greasy boy, Snape, mix one up for you? I would have done it, Bella. You know that. Even though I think Rodolphus is a horrible man and you deserve so much better. Two bad Lucius didn't have a brother. Think of it! We could go from being the Black Sisters, to the Malfoy sisters, and all that money. . ." she had gone off among the clouds with that last statement, her dreamy sigh lifting her away.

"Thank Cronos Malfoy doesn't have a brother!" Bella laughed. "One Lucius is far too many as it is. And besides, we don't need the sanctity of marriage to reinforce our sisterhood, 'Cissa. We'll always be the Black sisters."

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes we will! Now tell me how you've done it. Which potion did you use?"

"No potion, honest. I simply decided to change my strategy."

"Oh?" Narcissa glanced sideways at her sister, "What did you change?"

Bella grinned casually, "I stopped playing hard to want?"

"You mean. . ."

"Yes, I stopped letting him think I even care, and look at how it works. Oh, yeah, and I stood him up on Saturday."

"You didn't?"

"I did," Bella was still rather satisfied with this. It amazed her how confident she felt with the Dark Lord's support. No one had ever reminded her of her worth before. "I think it makes a big difference that the Dark Lord seems to favor me a bit. He enjoys sharing his private reveries and plans with me and me alone and that drives Rudy crazy. He wants to know what's going on and I'm not talking."

"Well done, sister dear!" Narcissa brought her arm around her younger sister's shoulders. "I'm so proud of you, and I can't help feeling a bit of a glow when I think that if there's anything you've learned from me it's how to properly play your cards with a man."

"I was a bit slow with the lesson at first," Bellatrix had never felt such a genuine smile as she did at that moment. She looked down at the flowers on the table, admired the contrast between their color. Black and Purple, like a bruise. Is that what she had done to his heart? Left it bruised? The grin broadened. She could feel her whole face tightening with its movement. "But I think I've got it now."

"Good! Fantastic! It'll be so much more appealing if the two of you are an actual couple when you appear in my wedding."

"Your wedding?" Bella questioned. "That's the second time you've mentioned marriage this morning. Shall I be so bold as to assume that Lucius has gone and made the ultimate fool of himself so soon? Why, it's been barely two months he's been courting you, and already he's asked you to marry him?"

"No, not yet," Narcissa gave a confident, little giggle before she sang, "but it's only a matter of time."

"I'm sure. He adores you," the eagle owl dropped in over the table, shadowing over Bella's dark bouquet before a dainty package fell before he sister. "See, simply adores you. You're lucky, 'Cissa."

"I am, aren't I?" she grinned, unwrapping the package. "He is wonderful, and such a wicked man. Why last week at Hogsmeade he tried to get me to. . ."

"Bella, Rodolphus is here to see you," Rabastan approached the table. He wore a look of great deprecation when she glanced back over her shoulder at him. "He's out on the steps. Dumbledore won't let him in, but he swears it's urgent. That if he doesn't see you he'll go mad."

"What?" she remarked. "What on earth is he doing here?"

"Who knows," Rabastan shrugged, dropping into the seat opposite Narcissa. "Who cares?"

"That's odd," Narcissa noted. "Are you sure you didn't use some kind of potion on him? He sounds like a man possessed."

A casual laugh escaped her, "No potion, I told you. I just learned how to play his game and it looks like he doesn't like it."

"He always was a sore loser," Rabastan smirked.

"You should go and see what he wants," Narcissa urged. "Before he lands himself in Azkaban for assaulting the headmaster of the school."

Bella sighed, and rose from the table, "I suppose I should go and see what he wants." She glanced down at Rabastan, a bit of pleasure warming her as she realized the younger brother was jealous. Poor boy, she thought. He should have known what he was getting himself into, entangling with her on any level. "I might be late for Charms, Rabastan. Will you take notes for me?"

A compliant smile lifted his cheeks, "Of course I will, Bella."

She walked out of the Great Hall and into the foyer, where she saw Professor Dumbledore standing with his arms crossed over his chest, the silvery length of his beard draping over those arms as he assured a very aggravated Rodolphus Lestrange that he was not permitted within the castle no matter how urgent his message for Miss Black was. "Ahh, Bellatrix Black," the headmaster smiled pleasantly. "Just the girl I was looking for. It seems a very disturbed young man has come vying for you attention. Shall I send him away, or would you wish for permission to see him to the gate on his way out."

Bella tossed her options around in her mind for a moment. She actually considered sending him away empty hearted now that she knew it was an option, but alas, she realized that such a gesture might actually blow her own plot up in her face. She heard her sister's voice reminding her that "A proper lady knows how to play her cards. She always knows when to yield to her paramour to keep their relationship in tact." This was a yield moment, she thought, or at least a temporary rest stop between the monumental struggles that would eventually bring them together.

"I'll walk him to the gate, Professor," she decided.

"Very well, then," he nodded once, stepping aside and opening the door for her. "Mr. Lestrange, Miss Black will see you to the gate. One can only hope this jaunt will be enough time for you to say whatever it is you need to say to her."

Rodolphus muttered something unpleasant under his breath which evoked nothing more than an eyebrow from Professor Dumbledore.

Bella heard the door close behind her, "Rudy, what on earth are you doing here? Causing some kind of scene? Making a menace of yourself? You'll get me expelled!"

"I had to see you," the scowl lifted away from his expression, the lines in his furrowed brow softening when she stepped toward him. "Why are you avoiding me? Why did you stand me up?"

"I had work to do, Rudy," she explained casually, drawing her robes tighter around her to ward off the chill of the late, February wind. "Work comes before pleasure, most especially in his service. You should know that yourself."

"Well, of course, but. . ."

"No buts."

"You could have sent me an owl to cancel. I waited for hours."

"Awwe," she sympathized with sarcasm. "Poor Wudy. He had to wait for something."

"Imagine if it had been you." He said. "You would have never let me hear the end of it."

"Imagine?" she asked. They had both started the journey toward the gate. "Imagine, Rudy. It has been me. Dozens of times you left me waiting for you, no note, no explanation. I'm tired of waiting for you. I don't need you."

"What do you mean you don't need me?" he gasped. "I thought you loved me."

"I do," she shrugged. "I love you the only way I know how to love, but that doesn't mean I need you."

"Well, I need you."

"You don't!"

"I do!" he insisted. "These last weeks without you have really shown me. I can't live without you. I want to marry you tomorrow."

"Don't be stupid," she rolled her eyes. "I have to finish school."

"What do you need school for? You know the Dark Lord will provide. He will make our way for us." She'd actually had that thought more than a hundred times those last weeks. She was learning nothing in that school and she hated being there. "Leave this place tonight and marry me. We'll run away together."

"No," she shook her head.

"Please, Bella," he reached into his pocket. "I even brought you this, see? See? This is me, being serious about us. I love you." He grabbed for her hand and dropped something cold into her palm that immediately began to warm to her blood temperature. "Let's just get married. We can walk through that gate right now and never look back."

Her heart was rumbling inside her like thunder. Surely he could hear it, or maybe it was only her, her burning ears and face showing how afraid she was to give in to him. Had the Dark Lord done something? Had he said something to change Rodolphus' mind, or was the power of her taking control really more than he could stand to have wrought against his heart? "Not tonight," she shook her head. "I have work to do tonight."

"What work?"

"My work. Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

"Fine then, tomorrow." He tried. "I'll come back for you tomorrow."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I need to think about it."

"Think about it?" he astounded. "Bella, what is there to think about? I love you, you love me, let's do this!" He grasped both of her hands after taking the ring from her. "We belong together."

She looked away from his pleading face, "I know we do."

"See, you know it. I know it. Let's do something about it."

They walked slowly in silence. Bella was surprised that she had to think about, but her instinct had become so honed over the last weeks that she knew what an immediate response would do. He would win, things would go back to the way they were again, and she would be left wanting and alone, the only difference being that she had a ring on her finger. They had just arrived at the gates of the school when she decided that she had come too far to let him get away so easily.

"Rudy, I will marry you, but it won't be tonight, nor will it be tomorrow." She said. "I will marry you when I am ready, and not a moment before that. In the meantime," she took the ring from him and slipped it over her finger, "I'll take this."

"Don't you want me to get down on my hands and knees?" he asked.

"Good gods, no! I couldn't stand to see you grovel." She shuddered. "You'd remind me of your brother far too much."

"Thank heavens for that, then!" He smiled.

Bella leaned across the space between them and placed a kiss on his cold cheek, "Come and see me next Saturday."

"Of course," he nodded. "If you change your mind and want to get married tomorrow. . ."

"I'll owl you," she winked, and stepped back from him. "Goodbye, Rudy."

"Bye, Bella," he was still grinning. He didn't even seem to realize she had played him completely.

Now that was power, she thought. She turned around and started walking back toward the castle and never looked back. She knew that he was watching her, hands gripping the gate from the other side. It was then that she realized how easily she had won, and she had definitely won, for not once had he told her not to call him Rudy. Things were definitely looking up, she noted with a self-satisfied smirk. Things were looking up indeed.  



	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen: My Father**

_ It felt strange walking into the house I grew up in. It was unfamiliar to me, and I supposed then that it must have been so all those years, and I had never noticed it. With the Dark Lord at my back, he had promised me before we left his chamber that I would know vengeance, and my power would grow immeasurably once I took the soul of my own father inside myself. He said that even though he had assuredly approached his cause and begun formulating his plots before he'd taken the life of his father, that final act had catapulted him into a state of power from which there was no turning back._

"Imagine it, my Bella," he held a hand out to me and I took it without reluctance. "Imagine the power you possess inside you now and multiply that times ten, one hundred. . . You will be the most powerful witch, the most honored Death Eater among my ranks. All will bow to you after they bow to me."

I couldn't deny that the offer he made went beyond my capacity for refusal. My heart gave a fluttering spark, and I daydreamed all the possibilities of the power he promised me. Rodolphus would never walk away from me again. Snape would never doubt me. Narcissa would never feel sorrow again, not as long as I lived and even Lucius would be forced to respect me. My father. . . I paused and reflected on the one with the ultimate roll to play in this daydream. My father would never make another decision on my behalf. From that moment forward, I would be calling the shots in my life and just thinking on it evoked a delicious recognition in me that would linger with me for the rest of my days.

The Dark Lord and I slunk stealthily through the earliest hours of morning, the silence so thick I thought I'd have to peel it away in layers in some points, but then we arrived at the threshold of my father's chamber. I saw a flash of movement and looked down the hallway. My mother's ghost stood watching, smiling, nodding, and I reached for the cold knob of his door, turning it slowly in my hand. Even though it was barely a whisper, the sound of the lock clicking open was like gunshot, resonating for several seconds just beyond the reaches of my own heartbeat.

It had been years since I had been inside the room where my mother died, my father's bedroom, and though little more than seventeen years had passed since the night he had killed her, nothing had changed. Behind the curtains of his bed, he lie unsuspecting, the black-sheer curtains dancing in the breeze of our movement. I wasn't sure what plans the Dark Lord had made, for he had not fully shared them with me, so when he called out in his powerful intonation, "Cesaro Black, I call you forth from the clutches of sleep to face your final destiny," I was just as surprised as my father.

That lump in the middle of the bed shot forth into the darkness with a quick gasp, "Who's there?" Neither of us answered, but listened to his frenzied breath in the throws of darkness, anticipation budding like flower. "Who is it? Who's there?"

"What if it were your wife?" I asked him. My voice was like a razor's edge, slicing through the cold night. "What if she had come to claim vengeance for the life you stole from her?"

"Bellatrix!" There was no surprise in his voice, only scorn and expectation.

"That's right, Father. Your wife's vengeance was born in my blood and I have come to claim her dues." A light from the Dark Lord's wand flamed into existence, illuminating my father's face in tones of grey-ash and green.

"I should have strangled you in your bassinette," his wild eyes grew frantic as he flittered between the Dark Lord and myself. "You were an abomination who should have never been born!"

"No," I shook my head. "It was you who was the disgrace, Father. All those muggle women. . ."

He laughed, a slow, booming sound that echoed through the barren chamber, "Is that what this is all about? Muggle women?"

"You disgraced my mother's memory," I hissed. "Narcissa and I have both decided the time has come to avenge her, our mother."

He continued laughing and it unnerved me because it was the unhinged laughter of a man possessed with fearful anticipation. "Your mother was a whore!"

The Dark Lord touched my hand, and though he said nothing, through that touch, I felt his strength. A reminder flickered to life inside me, "I'm your father now," he seemed to say. "Take his life."

"By the decree of the Dark Lord Voldemort, I find you guilty," I said. "Guilty of consorting with mudbloods. Guilty of blood treason!"

"Blood treason?"

"Blood treason," I repeated. "The penalty for your crimes is death, Father, and I hope there is a hell for you to burn in."

I had no desire to torment him. His suffering would bring me no pleasure, for I felt he would enjoy it far too much. With a nod from my master, I released the death curse quickly and swallowed my father's soul.

Fin

**Thank you all who have read and reviewed both this story and Courting Narcissa. It has been a real joy hearing your feedback! Please check out some of my other work. Right now I am very excited about a story I'm writing that was inspired by an amalgamation of Christina Rossetti's Poem "Goblin Market" and the 80's film featuring David Bowie as the Goblin King "Labyrinth." These two elements combined, a rather fantastic tale about a young woman named Meredith who bargains with the Goblin King in order to save her sister's soul emerges. Into the Underground world of Faerie, she befriends two of the most unlikely beings and for the first time in her life she starts to understand the meaning of true love. I'd love to have your feedback if you have a mind for adventure and fantasy. Join Me in the Goblin Market, Rated M for mature issues. **


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